


forever, and what comes after

by violetmessages



Series: These Happy Days [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Ianto Jones Lives, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood), how is not explained, questionable science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/pseuds/violetmessages
Summary: “Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Rhys Williams & Jack Harkness
Series: These Happy Days [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990219
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36





	forever, and what comes after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paycheckgurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paycheckgurl/gifts).



> A huge thank you to both Ruairidh ([someawkwardprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardprose)) and Nik ([princessoftheworlds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds)) for being amazing betas and ever better friends. This fic would not have been possible or even _half_ as good without your invaluable help and I love the both of you so so much! 
> 
> Thank you to Bel ([Beleriandings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings)), who's tumblr post [here](https://ultraviolet-eucatastrophe.tumblr.com/post/631768100931502080/please-consider-every-year-between-august-16) inspired this fic. 
> 
> Written for the Torchwood Fan Fest's Holiday Exchange. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy!

“And you’re sure you have enough,” Gwen asked, clutching Anwen to her chest, who was sleeping peacefully. Throughout the car ride to the spa, Gwen refused to put her down, instead holding her daughter like she was never going to see her again. “You know, we could always wait for a couple hours, I think I can pump more in a few-”

“-Gwen, we have enough to last us a few weeks, and we’re supposed to be introducing Anwen to solid foods anyway,” Rhys reassured her. “She will be fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I know it’s probably scary to go somewhere without your baby-” 

“-I am _not_ scared,” Gwen exclaimed, cutting Jack off and giving him a hard stare. She softly rubbed the top of Anwen’s head, caressing her soft, downy hair. Ianto reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 

Ianto was well aware that Gwen was scared to leave Anwen alone, not because she didn't trust Rhys or Jack with her, but because she had never actually been away from her that long. Six months in, and Gwen had spent every waking minute in the same house as her child; now that she wouldn’t be able to see her, she was panicking. He understood; he really did. Even if she would kill him for suggesting she had a little separation anxiety.

When Jack and Rhys had surprised the two of them with a spa weekend for their combined birthday week, Gwen had been excited, thrilled to be able to spend time with him alone without the constant need to be looking after Anwen, however much she loved her. But as the time to part approached, Gwen had become reluctant to let Anwen go, even to her very competent father and slightly less competent uncle. 

As they pulled up to the front of the spa, Ianto watched as Gwen closed her eyes and leaned backwards, resting Anwen on her shoulder. He looked away as a tear escaped Gwen’s eye, giving her privacy to say goodbye. Then, when Rhys stopped the car, Gwen leaned over and placed Anwen delicately in her car seat, strapping her in, then placing a final kiss to the top of her head. 

“Ready?” he asked. Gwen nodded, giving him a smile. She glanced down at her baby again before both of them exited the car. Popping the boot, Ianto took out their small suitcases and placed them on the ground. 

“Alright then,” Jack said. “Got your identification?”

“Yup,” replied Gwen, patting her purse. “Right here.” She pulled Rhys away to the side, and Ianto was left standing in front of Jack, who was wearing an uncomfortable grin. 

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked, his tone joking, but his eyes sincere as he met Jack’s. He needed to know. Jack breathed in, locking eyes with him. 

“Oh, Ianto Jones,” he said, reaching out to take Ianto’s hand. “How can I be alright without you?”

“It’s only for a few days-”

“-I know,” Jack cut him off. “I’ll be alright. Go have fun with Gwen.” He leaned forwards, cupping Ianto’s cheek with his free hand, and pecked him on the lips. 

“Right,” says Jack, and let go of Ianto’s hand. He moved to embrace Ianto, which he gladly returned. They didn’t break away until Gwen and Rhys returned. 

“Gwen,” said Jack exuberantly, and hugged her, lifting her off the ground and twirling her once. She shrieked, whacking him on the arm once he released her. Ianto gave Rhys a quick hug as well. 

“Bye,” Gwen said finally, and with a final wave, both of them walked towards the spa, arm in arm, rolling their suitcases behind them. 

“You alright?” he asked, mindful of the way she looked when she said goodbye to Anwen.

“Yes, pet,” she smiled, squeezing his arm. 

They entered into the reception, the kind of minimalist monstrosity that was becoming popular now. It painted a stark white room with a light brown wooden information desk right in the middle with a smartly dressed woman standing behind it. To the right of the desk was a small fountain, and to the left of the desk was a life-size marble sculpture of a naked woman, kneeling with her legs spread and breasts popped out. Ianto raised an eyebrow - it looked ridiculously out of place, and Gwen stifled a laugh when she saw it. 

“Welcome to the Plassein Polymar Oasis Spa Experience, where your pleasure is our service,” said the woman perkily. Her fake-tan was almost orange, contrasting strangely with her white jumpsuit, and her teeth were very bright. “How may I aid in your pleasure today?”

Gwen snickered beside him, and he smiled at the woman awkwardly. Jack would have a field day with this woman, he had no doubt. 

“Uh, yes, We, uh, have an appointment. The name is under Evans,” he said. The woman flashed back a blinding smile, then typed something into her computer. 

“Ah yes, here you are. Bethan and Ifan Evans,” the woman said. “Can I see some identification?”

“Of course,” said Gwen, and dug inside her purse to take out their fake driving licenses. When they had first moved to the seaside, Ianto had made sure to get all four of them, and Anwen after she was born, several different fake identities. There was no need to broadcast who they were to the general public. 

The woman examined their driving licenses, then typed into the computer again. “You two make a lovely couple,” she said, smiling. “How long have the two of you been married?”

Ianto opened his mouth to correct her, when Gwen cut him off. “Three years, as of tomorrow,” she said, with a glint in her eyes. Ianto frowned, looking at Gwen weirdly. That wasn’t their agreed upon cover story. 

“That’s wonderful,” exclaimed the woman. “Well, then, let me upgrade your package! Lucky for you, the honeymoon suite has just opened up, and we’ll throw in the extra decadence package. It comes with an option to try out the latest treatment - plastic therapy.”

“Plastic therapy?” Ianto asked incredulously, and the woman nodded. 

“Your plastic technician can explain it better than I can,” said the woman. “Now, I’ll just call Bronwyn to bring you to your room.” She pressed a button on the phone beside her, and a few seconds later, a dark-haired, well-dressed woman entered the room, presumably Bronwyn. 

“Hello! I’m Bronwyn, and I will be aiding in your pleasure today! Please follow me,” she said, pointing to the door from where she came. Ianto picked up his suitcase and followed her and Gwen down a hallway and up an elevator until they reached their room. 

Bronwyn opened the door, and they entered a garish, stereotypical room. The walls were painted bright pink, the bed was red and heart shaped, and there were flowers and chocolates on every table. The nightstand bore a few bottles of wine, upon further inspection, he discovered it was a shitty chardonnay. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled,” Bronwyn said cheerfully, a picture perfect smile pasted on her face. “If you need anything, just dial the number zero on the phone over there. The general itinerary for tomorrow is on that table over there.”

“Thanks, pet,” Gwen said. Bronwyn nodded and left the room with a nod. 

“What happened to being siblings?” Ianto asked. Gwen laughed, jumping onto the bed. 

“Quick thinking. I just got us upgraded.” She smirked. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Mr. Ifan Evans. Free wine!”

“God forbid we should stick to the plan even once,” he grumbled fondly, joining her on the bed. “This room has got to be the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, pink walls? Red, heart-shaped bed?”

“Strawberry lube?” Gwen asked cheekily, rifling through the nightstand. He groaned, lying down on his back. 

“You’re a menace, Cooper,” he said, rolling his eyes. “If I wanted flavour, I’d rim a bloody strawberry.” 

“That’s Bethan Evans to you, darling. And please, I don’t want to know about your sex life. Ever.”

* * *

Jack watched from the window of the car as Cardiff flew by him. He hadn’t been here in months, and it was bringing back an odd feeling. He didn’t regret anything; he’d give anything to stay in the beachhouse with Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, and Anwen. But he’d lived in Cardiff for so long - the city had grown with him - and it was bringing back a confusing mix of emotions. 

Cardiff was where he’d lived and loved and lost. Cardiff was his stopping point as he waited, hoping that he could be fixed. Cardiff wasn’t home anymore, but for a short while, it was. 

“Still with us, mate?” Rhys asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. He startled, then smiled at Rhys. 

“Of course,” he said. “Just thinking.”

“Try not to sprain something,” responded Rhys sardonically. Jack chuckled, smiling wistfully outside the window again. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No,” Jack said. “Not about him. Never about him.”

Ianto and Gwen’s combined birthday spa weekend had two purposes. One, it gave both of them an opportunity to have a relaxing birthday, which both of them desperately needed. And second, it gave Jack time to buy a ring and plan an engagement for Ianto. 

“Well, here we are then,” said Rhys, parking in a nearby carpark. “The ring shop is just down the corner.”

They strolled out, Rhys with Anwen strapped to his chest, still sleeping, head resting against her father as they walked to the shop. It was small, brightly lit, with rings on display in big glass cabinets on either side. As they were wont to do, a salesman popped out of nowhere, startling Rhys a little. Jack resisted the urge to laugh at him.. 

“Hello, gentleman, how can I help you?” he asked, grinning widely. 

“Hello,” Jack said, putting on a little bit of extra charm. “We’re here to get a ring.”

“Of course,” said the man. “Are you looking for men’s or women’s rings?”

“Men’s rings please.”

“Of course, just this way,” he said, and led them across the store. “We do have a few sets of matching ones if you and the mister are interested?”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Jack said, looking back at Rhys. 

“Yeah, I have standards,” Rhys said, laughing. The salesman looked very embarrassed. 

“Oh, my apologies-” he started to say, when Jack interrupted him. 

“Wait, what do you mean you have standards?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “You wouldn’t marry me?”

“Of course not,” said Rhys, looking amused. “You’re lazy, you’re rude, you have the worst table manners I’ve _ever_ seen and Ianto’s told me stories about how-”

“-I get it,” said Jack, rolling his eyes. He turned to the other salesman expectantly. 

“So we have a fine collection of rings right here,” said the salesman, pulling out a tray of rings. “These ones are gold, these here are platinum, and these few are titanium.”

“Hmm, what about this one?” Jack asked, pointing to one he knew Ianto would dislike. Rhys made a face. 

“Do you want him to say yes or no?” he asked. Jack frowned, looking down again. 

“This used to be so much easier,” he muttered. “The last time I did this, all I had to do was ask her father’s permission, and he gave me her grandmother’s ring.”

“Someone _gave_ you permission to marry their daughter,” Rhys quipped, looking interested. “Willingly?”

“What?” Jack asked. “I can be charming.”

And he was. That time, he was perfectly polite. They had courted, he’d obtained her father’s permission, as customary for the time, converted to whatever religion she was - he couldn’t remember anymore, and gotten married. 

“You? Charming?” Rhys mocked him, and he laughed. The salesman looked at them both, but he ignored him, thinking back to their first meeting. 

“Well, my wife certainly wasn’t charmed at first,” Jack said. “Ah, my Jaqueline. She hated me the first time we met.”

“Sorry, her name was Jaqueline?” Rhys asked, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Jack smiled at him - the name matching was quite funny then, and still was. 

“Yup! Jack and Jaqueline - we made quite a pair. Used to make everyone laugh,” said Jack, thinking fondly of a party he’d gone to with her. The topic of the conversation had turned to baby names, and someone had asked him if he was thinking of naming their future children Jack, as to keep in the spirit of their family. He’d joked back saying he would rather name his son Mold. That night was a good night - one of the last ones he had with Jacqueline. 

“What happened to her?” Rhys asked softly. Jack smiled sadly. The same thing that happened to all his lovers, obviously. 

“She died,” he said, looking down at the rings to hide his face. “She got sick, and they couldn’t cure her.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rhys softly. 

“It’s alright,” Jack responded. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’m still sorry.” Rhys put a hand on his shoulder. He appreciated it. It was the sort of thing he’d grappled and come to terms with. One day Jacqueline died, Ianto was going to die, and any future lover he had would as well. There was truly nothing to do about it other than make use of the time he had left with Ianto. 

“Can you show me some other gold ones?” he asked the salesman, trying to change the subject. The man, whose face was frozen in sympathy, nodded briskly and pulled out another tray. 

Pointing to a simple gold one: “What do you think of this one?” 

“I think-” Rhys started to say but was cut off by a thunderous noise from outside. Jack narrowed his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked hurriedly, then walked briskly out of the jewelry store, Rhys behind him. He ran towards the sound, leading him to an alleyway. He ran into the alley, and his eyes widened when he saw what had made the noise. 

* * *

“I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years,” said Gwen as she entered the sauna. They had split up for an hour - Gwen went to get a manicure, and Ianto had the most luxurious massage of his entire life, enough to literally make him boneless. He wondered if Jack would enjoy a couples massage - but he filed that thought away to examine later. Donning his swimsuit, he entered their private sauna, waiting for Gwen. 

“I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed my entire life.” He shrugged. “I think the massage therapist did something to my bones because they’ve liquified.”

“Accusing the spa of having access to alien technology?” Gwen teased. He laughed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He felt so relaxed; he just wanted to take a nap for hours. 

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

“We’re _not_ coming out of retirement right now,” Gwen said sternly. “Besides, we have a more important issue. We’ve got to plan an engagement.”

“Civil partnership, technically,” Ianto said. 

“Same thing.”

Ianto smiled to himself. He was glad that Jack and Rhys had sprung a surprise weekend because it gave him and Gwen enough time to properly decide how he was supposed to propose to Jack. One night, after everything was over, he had held Jack in his arms, and they had talked about the future - about their lives, about how he had almost died, and about how now that Jack had gotten a taste of what it was like to lose Ianto, he never wanted to do it again. 

Jack hadn’t brought up civil partnership, but Ianto was certain that he’d never been proposed to in his life. And Ianto wanted to. 

He couldn’t marry him, not yet, not legally, but he would do the next best thing.

“Well,” Gwen said. “What are we planning on doing?”

“I don’t know, Gwen, does he even want a ring? I think he wants to get married, but what if he-”

“-stop,” Gwen cut him off. “Ianto, one at a time. You want to propose?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to buy a ring?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I’ve never seen him wear a ring or want a ring. And then _if_ he says yes, then do we get another one? Do we put it on again?”

“Okay, first of all, that man is going to say yes.” Gwen laughed. “There’s no universe where he’d say no. Secondly, you don’t have to get him a ring.”

“Well, what should I do then?” Ianto asked. 

“What if you got him a present?” Gwen supplied. “Like an engagement present. That way you can pick rings together.”

“Okay,” he trailed off. “What do you suppose I should get him then? Cufflinks? A sword?” 

“He’s _your_ boyfriend,” said Gwen. “What do you think sounds like a gift he’d enjoy?”

“We could-” he thought out loud. “There’s an antique store not far from here. We could go look for something there after lunch?”

“That’s a good idea, darling.” Gwen smiled. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

“What the hell is that?” Rhys asked, shocked. Jack stood in front of him, shielding both Rhys and Anwen. In front of them was a soup of half melted plastic mannequins, stuck together with body parts burgeoning from every angle. At the top was a head, plastic dripping down its face, moaning miserably. 

“Plastic,” Jack responded, shocked. He stared at it, not knowing what to do, then came to his senses. Rummaging through his pockets, he found a matchbox. Lighting a match, he threw it onto the gurgling mass in front of them. It caught fire, melting, and making a horrible noise. Anwen woke with a loud cry.

“Shield her ears!” he yelled, and ran from the alleyway, pulling Rhys alongside him. They ran out of the alley as it exploded, sending chunks of something alongside the walls. 

“That’s not plastic,” Rhys said, panting, his hands still clamped around Anwen’s head as she complained vociferously. Jack shook his head, and pulled Rhys’ hands away from her face.

“No. Not exactly,” he responded. “It’s an alien - well, alien-ish. A bunch of misshapen Autons. They’re made of plastic. But they shouldn’t be here; the Nestene Consciousness was banished from Earth, and it wouldn’t have just half melted their soldiers. Something else has been controlling these.”

“Bollocks,” Rhys swore, then turned red and covered Anwen’s ears again. “Shite, shouldn’t swear in front of the baby. I don't want her first word to be a curse.” 

Jack laughed, but he looked back anxiously at the alleyway. Something had been happening in Cardiff - something alien. 

“What do we do?” asked Rhys. “I mean, we have to do something, right?”

Jack hesitated. He wanted to say no. He wanted to say, _let UNIT do their jobs for once. Let the Doctor fix it. Let’s just take Anwen home, and stay out of it._ They were supposed to be out - they _were_ out. This wasn’t their job anymore. 

But once you knew about the greater universe, it was impossible to pretend you didn’t. And Cardiff was still his home, even after he’d left. 

“Yeah,” responded Jack. “We have to. Strap yourself in, Rhys Williams, because I think Torchwood is about to come out of retirement.”

“But what about Anwen? Should we call Gwen and Ianto - warn them about this perhaps?” Rhys asked, looking nervously down at his daughter, who had stopped her vocal complaints to play with the dangling strap of the papoose, sucking her thumb contentedly. 

“No, not yet,” said Jack. “I don’t want to disturb them just yet. They deserve their birthday weekend. Besides, we have the two of us on the case, right, Rhys? Anwen will be fine.”

She would be fine. He’d make sure of it. Jack would give the rest of his infinite lives to keep her safe, and he knew Rhys would do everything possible to protect her. Who better to be with than her father and a man who couldn’t die? But if they didn’t get to the bottom of what was going on with the Autons, no one would be safe. 

“Alright, the first thing we should do is make anti-plastic,” he said. 

“Anti-plastic?”

“Yeah. Uh, basic recipe - let me think. Chlorofluorocarbons, vinyl acetates, copolymers, maleic anhydride, and ethyl alcohol,” Jack rattled off. “That should be easy to find, I think.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” said Rhys, looking alarmed. “Where are we supposed to get a bunch of chemicals from?”

“The names are just long - they’re more common than you think. Ethyl alcohol is just hand sanitizer. Chlorofluorocarbons can be found in some cleaners,” Jack said, thinking out loud. “We can melt PVC to get a copolymer agent. I think the hardest thing to find is vinyl acetate.”

“Okay, but what do we do after we make the anti-plastic?” asked Rhys. Jack frowned. 

“What is it with you people? Always thinking of what to do next, even when we haven’t finished the plan,” Jack complained. “You, Ianto, Gwen-”

“-so basically you have no idea,” said Rhys, rolling his eyes. Jack winced. Rhys wasn't wrong - far from it. He had no idea what to do next; they had no tools, no Hub, no weapons other than Jack’s Webley and whatever guns they kept in Rhys’ car. But he’d always been a good improviser, and Jack had lost enough already. They’d all lost enough. He wasn’t going to let another alien threat run riot in Cardiff, not when his little family was here.

“We know that whoever is behind this has knowledge of how the Autons work,” Jack said. “And I suppose we sort of know how Autons work.”

“Bully for that,” Rhys responded sarcastically. “How do they work then, inform us?”

“Well, the Nestene Consciousness sends out a signal; it has a transmitter from where it controls all the autons. So someone has managed to make a transmitter that sends out the signal that controls the Autons,” said Jack. There doesn’t seem to be any way to find whoever is controlling them, not to his knowledge. 

“Uh, I may not be the expert here,” Rhys started to say, letting Anwen play with his fingers. “But if these people are sending out a signal, couldn’t we just track the signal back to where it came from?”

Jack stared at him for a moment, not fully processing what Rhys had just said. Then he came to his senses. How had he not thought of this?

“Rhys, you’re a genius,” he exclaimed, grabbing the sides of his face to plant a kiss to the startled man’s lips. “Come on, we’ve got to get to work!”

* * *

Gwen walked into the antique shop with Ianto. Their plan to go there after lunch had been delayed - the people in the spa had offered them meals as part of their extended package that she’d scammed her way into - and they hadn’t needed to leave the building. However, Ianto needed to get an engagement present, and Gwen was determined to help him find it, so after dinner, they went to the antique shop, which was miraculously still open. 

The store was a little dark, accent lights alighting pieces on display and antique lamps casting shadows. The store was crammed with all sorts of curios and knicknacks, from furniture to silverware and jewellery. Gwen didn’t know where to start. 

“This is a lot,” she said, uneasily. Ianto shrugged, walking past her to a corner of the store. He gently sifted through the items on the table. Gwen picked up a brass compact, one that was intricately carved with spiraling designs. She clicked it open, examining her appearance. 

“That’s nice,” Ianto said, absentmindedly. She gave her face one last glance, then closed it and put it down. 

“Yeah,” she said. “So, what are we looking for?”

Ianto was silent for a while, looking through boxes and tables. Finally, he looked up at her with a thoughtful light in his eye. 

“I’ve been thinking...Jack once told me about a tradition from his home,” Ianto said contemplatively, considering the selection before him. “I mean, I think he thought I was asleep, but he told me about it anyway. When people got married where he was from, they would exchange bracelets made of a material they thought best fit the person.”

“So bracelet?” Gwen supplied for him. 

“Maybe,” said Ianto. “If we can find a good one. Something that Jack would like. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t worry sweetheart; we’ll find something.” Gwen reassured him. She patted him on the shoulder, and he smiled back, still looking a little worried. That was the thing about Ianto - you could try and relax him as much as you wanted, but until the issue was solved, he’d still have this tension around him. 

She supposed it was his reaction after everything that had happened. It was hard to tell, sometimes, that Ianto was only twenty-six; he acted much older than he really was. She tried to think of what she was doing at twenty-six. She certainly wouldn’t have coped with everything Ianto had gone through. Not that she’d ever publicly give Ianto sympathy. He would just get embarrassed, pretend that he was fine, and close himself off more. 

Sometimes she felt like she knew everything about him. Other times, it was like she was best friends with a veneer - the man she knew was a cover for someone she wouldn’t even recognize. 

It made her sad. 

“Excuse me,” said a man, interrupting her thoughts. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, we’re looking for bracelets,” Ianto said. The man smiled, gesturing behind him. 

“If you’ll follow me, I have some over here,” he said. He led them to another corner of the shop, where a large selection of bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and cufflinks were laid out. Gwen reached out to stroke a dainty emerald necklace that caught her eye. 

“Like that one?” Ianto asked, inspecting the collection of bracelets. 

“Yeah.” she answered. “But we’re not here for that.” Looking through the first tray, Gwen tried to find ones that Jack might like. All of them seemed too - unlike Jack. She appreciated a few bronze ones, but she had a hard time picturing Jack wearing any of them. 

A few minutes later, Ianto cleared his throat. Gwen looked over to see him holding a thin, twisted metal chain, about half a centimeter wide, maybe smaller, with tiny blue stones placed every few centimeters. 

“Ah, that’s one of our older ones. That one is from the nineteenth century,” said the man. “It’s actually on sale - no one has bought it because there’s an engraving on the back.”

Ianto flipped it inside out and read it intently. After a second, he started laughing, and Gwen looked at him curiously.

“What is it?” she asked. He shook his head and mirth and showed her what was engraved on the back. 

_To my Jack,_ it read. Gwen snickered, looking at Ianto in disbelief. 

“Oh my god, it’s perfect.” she smiled. “You don’t have to change a thing. You have to get it.”

“You think?” Ianto asked, looking away from her face. She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Excellent,” said the man. “Register’s just this way.”

After Ianto paid for it, the man wrapped it up nicely, handing it over with a smile. They exited the shop, arm in arm, and started the short walk back to the spa. 

“So, twenty-seven tomorrow,” Gwen said. “Got any last hurrahs for your early twenties?”

“Isn’t twenty-six late twenties?” Ianto asked, amused. Gwen scoffed at him. 

“See, Ianto, the thing you have to learn, now that we’re both in our late twenties, is you have to start rounding your age down,” Gwen teased. Ianto gave her a stare. 

“Gwen, you’re turning thirty-two,” said Ianto, raising an eyebrow. Gwen shook her head. 

“I’m turning _twenty-nine_ ,” she said dangerously. 

“Yeah, twenty-nine times two,” Ianto muttered, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow!”

“Shut up.” she complained. “Have you even gone through puberty yet, you child?”

“Yup. In fact, Jack and I had a good time demonstrating those skills when we-”

“-nope!” she cut him off, slapping his shoulder. “Tell you what, let’s do something fun tonight. Let’s get properly pissed on that wine. I was going to save it for later, but what the hell - we deserve it!”

“You want to spend one of our evenings getting drunk on probably shit wine in the most revolting room I’ve ever seen?” Ianto asked. 

“Yup.”

“Good plan,” said Ianto, and they reached the entrance of the spa. It was illuminated against the dark - the only bright thing they’d since the shop. As they entered, Brownyn - the woman from before - ran up to them, looking frantic. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans, where did you go?” she asked. “Why did you leave the premises without notifying anyone?”

“I didn’t realize we had to notify anyone to leave,” said Ianto, frowning. “Why would we have to?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Evans but it’s a liability for the spa. We must know if you’re in the premises or not.”

“We’ll be sure to let you know if we leave again,” Gwen reassured her. It rang uneasily in her head, but she didn’t say anything. Perhaps there were actual liability issues, but it was odd that they wouldn’t let them leave without checking out. After all, they’d paid in advance so it wasn’t like they would lose any money if the two of them left and never came back. 

“We’ll just go upstairs then?” Ianto asked, pulling Gwen with him towards the door. Bronwyn tensed. 

“I’ll take you myself,” she said, putting on a cheery voice. “Follow me.”

Gwen and Ianto looked at each other weirdly. Something about Brownyn just didn’t seem right to Gwen for some reason. It didn’t feel like she was just putting on an air of cheer for a customer; it felt different. 

Something felt off. 

Still as they headed up their room, Gwen put it out of her mind. She was just on edge - it was the first time she had been away from Rhys and Anwen since...everything. She had to be overthinking it. It had been a relaxing day, and now she wanted to drink with her best mate - and pry a few feelings out of him if possible. And not be worried at all. 

Brownyn left them at the door of their room with a smile, and they waved goodnight, and Gwen tried to shake her unease off. 

Entering, they were once again greeted by the garish sight of pink walls, the tacky red heart-shaped bed, and now, an addition of rose petals strewn everywhere. Ianto rolled his eyes and, after placing his bag on the table, headed straight for the chardonnay, picking up a bottle and popping it quickly. He handed it to Gwen and picked up another, for himself presumably. 

“That’s quite a lot of wine,” commented Gwen. Ianto laughed, popping the cork of his bottle. 

“Well, you were the one who wanted to get drunk,” he said with a smile. "Cheers.” He raised his bottle, and Gwen tapped hers against his, then took a big swig, not bothering to use glasses. They both collapsed onto the bed next to each other. At least it was luxuriously comfortable. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that I’d be here a year ago,” Gwen mused, thinking out loud, and Ianto hummed his assent, sipping wine. “I mean, I’m in the world’s tackiest room with my best friend on our birthdays, drinking wine from the bottle.”

“Never thought I’d leave Torchwood,” Ianto said quietly. “Always thought I’d die first.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true.” He took another sip, leaning back against the tacky plush headboard. “Thought I’d die of a Weevil, or an alien or just be shot before I ever left.”

“Do you miss it?” Gwen asked, looking at him intently. Ianto was quiet for a while, tracing his thumb over the opening of the bottle. When it became clear that he wasn't going to answer, Gwen leaned back against him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Sometimes,” Ianto finally said. “Sometimes I miss the excitement. We live such a quiet life now - it’s just not the same. I know we’ve retired and settled down, and it’s the best for Anwen, but-”

“-sometimes, deep down, you’re bored,” Gwen finished for him. She understood all too well. It’s the same thought that she had been grappling with, one that she didn’t like to entertain very often, because more than anything, it made her feel guilty. She got out. She had her family, her whole family - Jack, Ianto, Rhys, and Anwen, all safe and sound. 

How dare she want more than that?

“Still, it’s not all bad,” Ianto said, smiling. “We have a lot more free time now.”

“Well, we used to, I suppose,” Gwen remarked. “Anwen’s been getting better at sleeping through the night.”

“I know, I live with you,” Ianto joked. 

“Shut up,” she ribbed him, gently smacking the side of his arm. “We talk too much to gossip like we used to.”

“Did we gossip or did you feed me alcohol to tell you how big Jack’s cock is?” Ianto snickered. Gwen glared at him. 

“Who was the one who volunteered what you two did in bed?” Gwen pulled the bottle to her lips and took a deep gulp. “I certainly did not ask about how Jack likes it when you-”

“-oh, stop,” Ianto slurred, laughing softly. “S’not like you didn’t care.”

“Course I care, it’s Jack, isn’t everyone curious?” She nudged him playfully. “Besides, I’m your best mate. I want to know everything you want to tell me.” 

Lifting the bottle to her lips, she noticed that she'd almost completely drained the bottle, and she didn’t even realize. She must be drunker than she realized. 

“I love you, you know that right,” Gwen whispered. Ianto took in a sharp breath and turned to her. “I love you, and sometimes I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“That’s not true,” Ianto said. “You know so much about me - maybe more than Jack.”

“But that’s wrong!” she exclaimed, words spilling out of her mouth unconsciously. “You lied to me about your dad; you lied to me, and I had to find out from Rhiannon!”

“Gwen-”

“-don’t,” she half-yelled, leaning forward rapidly. Her head started to spin, and she placed a hand on the bed to steady herself. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I - I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ianto said earnestly. It was a good thing he was drunk, she thought, because he probably wouldn’t have been honest without being inebriated. “It wasn’t about you; I was-”

“-what?” Gwen asked. Ianto shook his head, looking down at his lap, cradling his bottle in his hands.

“I was embarrassed,” Ianto said finally. “I didn’t want to tell you, because for so long I’ve been Ianto Jones, secret agent, master tailor’s son. I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“But why?” Gwen pleaded. She pulled him closer, laying his head on her lap. Ianto unsurprisingly let her - he was very touchy when he was drunk, and only when he was drunk - and she accidentally dropped her bottle, spilling a little onto the bed, but didn’t care. “Tell me, please.”

“I didn’t want to admit that he was a drunken Debenhams shop assistant who hated his kids,” he slurred slightly. “It didn’t - it didn’t fit with what I wanted people to think of me. I didn’t want anyone to know; it was my little secret.”

“Ianto,” Gwen started to say, and he touched her arm, quieting her. 

“It wasn’t about you. I trust you more than anyone else, but,” Ianto said. “I couldn’t even admit it to myself. And I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“God, darling, why would I think badly of you?” Gwen asked, threading her fingers clumsily through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” Ianto said miserably, and she could see just how young he looked. She leaned down and tried to kiss his forehead, missing slightly and kissing the bridge of his nose. 

“You didn’t deserve that,” she whispered, wrapping herself around him. “But you should never, ever be ashamed you survived, pet.”

* * *

Rhys held Anwen firmly as she sucked at her bottle. She felt so delicate in his arms, eyes closed. Her long lashes fluttered, and he smiled down. Sometimes when Rhys looked at his daughter, he couldn’t believe she existed. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. 

His father had once told him that nothing could prepare a man for fatherhood. He supposed that was doubly true when you, your wife, and your wife’s coworkers-turned friends-turned godparents were all technically legally dead. 

Jack was typing away at a computer in the corner. They’d had no choice but to stay the night in Cardiff - Jack had volunteered to drive Rhys and Anwen down to their seashore cottage and return, but he’d firmly refused. There was no way he was leaving when Gwen might be in danger, and he definitely wouldn’t let anyone take his daughter from him. And, even though he would never say it aloud, he could never leave Jack on his own.

The anti-plastic had been made. After picking up the supplies, Rhys had taken Anwen and checked into a - thankfully nice - hotel room while Jack had gone into a back alley with a blowtorch and the supplies. There was absolutely no way that he was letting his child breathe in melted plastic, regardless of however safe Jack said it was.

Anwen stopped sucking, and Rhys gently pulled the bottle and wiped her mouth. Then he burped her and cradled her to his chest again, rocking her to sleep. 

Jack groaned, interrupting Rhys’ soothing. “What?” he asked. Jack slumped his head onto the desk and groaned again. 

“I can’t trace the fucking - I mean, freaking - signal,” he said, head still on the desk. 

“You know it doesn’t work if you replace the swear word afterward.” Rhys smirked. Getting up, he went closer to see what Jack was doing. On the screen were some navigations technology that looked similar to the ones he’d used in Harwoods. 

“I can’t trace the signal anywhere, it’s getting bounced back,” Jack said. “I guess we just gotta check out that whole area.”

“Hang on,” Rhys said, passing his daughter to Jack. He took her, cradling her head expertly. Rhys had always guessed that Jack had once had children, judging by the way he seemed to instinctively know how to sooth Anwen. That thought - hurt. He couldn’t imagine outliving a child, and something told him Jack had done so more than once. He stared at the two of them for a minute, Jack looking down at her with a radiant expression, rocking her slightly. Then he focused back onto the screen. 

“This just looks like sat-nav,” Rhys said finally. “Like an uncalibrated sat-nav.”

“It’s essentially the same technology,” Jack explained. “Sat-nav was developed for guided missiles. It’s kind of funny that it’s in everyone’s car now.”

“Well, we used to use a similar system at Harwoods,” responded Rhys. “I can try messing around with it, see if I can calibrate it?”

“Be my guest,” Jack said, rocking Anwen in his arms. Rhys turned back his attention to the computer and logged into the calibration settings. He found that it wasn’t so hard, really, and began to get started. 

“She’s sleeping,” Jack said after a few minutes. “We didn’t bring a crib or a bassinet or anything.”

“I guess she can sleep in the car seat, I’ll just have to bring it up,” said Rhys. “She’s just like me, she can sleep anywhere. Even through Gwen’s snores.”

“She’s beautiful,” said Jack, stroking the side of her cheek with a finger. Anwen sniffed, and Jack’s expression somehow grew even fonder. “I forgot how adorable they are at this age.”

“They don’t do much now,” said Rhys. “All the books say she’ll start getting even more active in a month or so.”

“Yes,” said Jack, sounding nostalgic. “Not long before she walks, goes to school, then she has a new family of her own. Goes by in a flash.”

“Do,” Rhys started to say. “Do you have kids, Jack?”

Jack didn’t answer, simply continuing to rock Anwen. Rhys waited for a few moments, and when it became clear that he probably wasn’t going to say anything, he turned back to the laptop. 

“Yes,” whispered Jack after a minute. “I do. And I did. One of my girls looked just like Anwen when she was that age. Same dark hair.”

“What happened to them?” Rhys asked, and when Jack gave him a sharp look, he ducked his head, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” responded Jack. “Same thing that happens to everyone, isn’t it? Not all of them though. I’ve still got one left. She’s got a son of her own.”

“That’s nice,” said Rhys cautiously. “Do you visit her?”

“No,” sighed Jack, and made a noise, somewhere between a choked sigh and a sob. “She doesn’t want me around.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rhys. He felt ridiculously sad for Jack. He didn’t know what he would do if Anwen decided that she’d never talk to him again. 

“It’s alright. I still love her. I’ll always love her,” Jack said, pressing down a kiss to Anwen’s forehead. “And this one as well.”

Rhys didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. So he kept his mouth shut, pretending to be working on the laptop. 

“Nothing’s going to happen to her, Rhys,” said Jack, finally. “I’ll never let anything happen to her as long as I live. Which, lucky for us, is pretty fucking long.”

Rhys responded in the only way he could. “Swearing again?” he joked. Jack laughed, and the somber atmosphere dissolved. 

“She’s asleep,” Jack complained. “Besides, Gwen curses like a drunk sailor. Anwen’s vocabulary is more likely to come from her.”

“Oh, we are going to have _words_ about that,” threatened Rhys jokingly. Jack snorted then passed Anwen back to Rhys. 

“Right, you keep working at that, and I’ll get the car seat,” said Jack. 

“Wait,” responded Rhys. “I did all I could, but I don’t know the technology well enough to make the location appear instantly.”

“What are you saying?”

“We’re going to have to wait. Probably overnight,” Rhys said. 

Jack cursed, and Rhys shot him a reproachful look, glancing down at his daughter, who was thankfully still asleep. 

“Sorry,” Jack said, not looking remotely sorry. 

“If her first word is fuck then I’m going to strangle you,” said Rhys. “Either you or Gwen. Ianto’s the only one that remembers the _bloody_ rules about swearing in front of the baby.”

“Well, Mr. Williams, it seems we have a lot of time on our hands. Whatever shall we do?” asked Jack, wiggling his eyebrows. Rhys rolled his eyes. 

“How about we get that engagement ring now?” he suggested. “But honestly, you could get that man a pebble from the beach, and he’d still say yes.”

“Do you think?” asked Jack, looking hopeful. Rhys nodded his head. Of course the man was going to say yes; what planet was Jack from?

“Course he is, you absolute idiot. Now, do you think Ianto would like a ring?” asked Rhys. 

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “We haven’t exactly talked about it.”

“Well, how about we go to an antique shop and see if anything looks good? If you don’t find anything, then we can always go back to the ring shop,” Rhys offered. 

“Okay,” said Jack. “But I want to drive.”

“Do you know where the shop is?” Rhys asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not exactly.”

“Then I’m driving.”

* * *

Ianto’s head spun as he woke up. There was a ringing in his ears, and he tried to rub his forehead but found that he couldn’t for some reason. He tried again, and this time he realized that they were handcuffed. 

He became a lot more alert then, realising he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable, and opened his eyes to see that he certainly wasn’t in that tacky suite anymore. Instead, he was lying on a cement floor. One side of his face burned, a bead of sweat dripped off his chin. Sitting up, he noticed that to his right, there was a railing overlooking what was probably a story drop. To his left was Gwen, unconscious and also cuffed. He prodded her with his leg. 

“Gwen,” he whispered. She moaned something approximating, _your turn Rhys,_ and rolled to her other side. He prodded her again. 

Gwen made an angry sound and lifted herself up. She then noticed where they were and turned to him with wide eyes. 

“Ianto, what-” she began to say when she was cut off by the sound of tapping heels on the ground. Bronwyn walked in from behind them, followed by a taller woman - the same one from the reception. 

“Well, I’m sorry for the change in your accommodations but we’ve unfortunately had a problem,” said the taller woman. Ianto wished he’d read her nametag, but her platinum blonde, fake-tan choice made her a Britney in his mind. “See, we couldn’t find any instance of a Bethan and Ifan Evans that married in Wales in the last century. Then of course, we looked at your identifications.”

“And?” Ianto snapped. Brownyn gave them a patient look. 

“Well, it seems that someone has been walking around with false identification. Now, we simply cannot have that in our spa, can we?” Britney said with a smile. “We simply had no choice.”

“So you’ve handcuffed us? Why didn’t you call the police?” Gwen asked. 

“Well, our new Consciousness must be fed,” said Bronwyn. “After all, the mother of a new plastics empire has a large diet, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does.” cooed Britney. “She’s going to be the empress of this world, and we are going to be her mothers. We will be the richest people in this galaxy.”

“What consciousness?” asked Gwen. In response, there was an eerie gurgling noise from below them. Ianto wracked his brain to try and think of where he’d heard the name Consciousness before. 

“The new Nestene Consciousness,” said Bronwyn. “We found her, dumped as a child in the back alleyways of Cardiff. Oh, she was just a small little blob then. Her appetite was nothing but an ounce of plastic. But oh how she’s grown!”

“We must feed her more carbon-based meals from now on. So she can learn to properly absorb the rest of the humans when we take over this planet. So much plastic! So much money! All for our little girl!” cried the Britney. 

“Nestene - isn’t that the Autons?” asked Ianto. He vaguely remembered a formula to get rid of them - melt them and make sure their form was not able to recombine. But what was the full formula?

“No, that is a different Consciousness. We have raised this one - the new mother of the plastics. Slowly but surely we’ve been integrating the plastics into your world - and soon our little girl will be able to eat all of you,” replied Bronwyn, smiling maniacally. 

“Would you like to see her?” Britney asked. Without waiting for a response, she and Bronwyn pulled the two of them to a railing. Underneath was a gigantic gelatinous mass, gurgling rapidly. 

“She’s hungry,” announced Bronwyn. “And soon she will feast.”

“But why the spa?” asked Gwen. “Why do you even have this?”

“Well, there’s plastic in everything you use. Everyone takes home things from the spa - little soaps, shampoos, food. And everything has plastic associated with it that will spread - little microplastic particles in the air. The more you take, the more you spread through the world. And one day, when our Consciousness grows large enough, we will reform those particles and consume all the humans,” explained Bronwyn. 

“Oh, so you guys are the ones choking the ocean,” Ianto quipped.

“Why do you think we give out so many free samples?” asked Britney, giving him a disdainful look. . “And besides, we need something to do while our little girl grows up.”

“Strap in,” said Bronwyn, her eyes gleaming with something a lot like mania. “Soon you will have the honor of being fed to the new ruler of this planet.”

He met Gwen’s eyes with a disgusted look of his own. _They’re absolutely mad._

Ianto glanced around, trying to decide what to do. He couldn’t see a gun anywhere, but it was likely that one of their captors had one. But he looked back to Gwen, hoping she’d understand what he was thinking. She stared back at him inquiringly. 

Tilting his head to the right, he rolled a shoulder towards Bronwyn, then the one closest to her, Britney. She raised an eyebrow, before jerking her chin in agreement, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. Gwen took a deep breath, bracing herself, then they both jumped to their feet. He used his forehead to bash Bronwyn’s head, and Gwen slammed into Britney from the right. 

Neither woman was prepared for them. Ianto’s headbutt had Bronwyn on the ground, and before she could react, he wrapped his still handcuffed arms around her neck, a perfect chokehold, counting carefully as she struggled - there was no need to cause accidental brain damage, after all - and watched Gwen work.

Gwen’s shove had sent Britney into the wall, but she’d rebounded quickly, throwing herself forward, clawing at Gwen’s face. Gwen used her momentum against her, flipping her onto her back, and kicked at Britney’s ribs for good measure. 

“Who are you?” asked Britney, painfully, as Gwen straddled her, holding her down by her wrists. “No one else managed to do that.”

Ianto lowered his own charge down carefully as soon as the struggles stopped. He looked at Gwen carefully, ready to step in if needed, though he doubted it. 

“Yeah? Well, we’re Torchwood,” said Gwen, and knocked her out with a single, well aimed punch.

* * *

Jack woke to the sound of Anwen crying. For a moment he thought he was back in their little cottage by the sea, Ianto heavy and solid beside him as the waves of the ocean lapped against the coastline. 

Then he smelled the cheap smell of hotel laundry detergent, so unlike the smell of Ianto in the morning, and remembered where he was. It was morning, they were in Cardiff, and there was a dangerous alien on the loose. And more importantly, Anwen was crying. He shoved Rhys, who was sleeping soundly beside him. And snoring.

“Rhys,” he said. “Rhys, your daughter is crying.”

“You take it, Gwennie,” Rhys slurred, and shifted back onto his side. Jack sighed, rolling his eyes, but he needed less sleep than Rhys, and he got a chance to cuddle Anwen uninterrupted. She probably just needed to be fed again. Holding her firmly to his chest, he prepared a bottle to feed her, which she accepted gratefully. 

Jack sat down, holding the bottle to Anwen’s mouth, and thought about what he’d gotten for Ianto last night. When they’d gone to the antique shop, he’d honestly just thought he would have bought a ring. But while sorting through various objects, he’d discovered what he hoped would be someone Ianto would love. 

It was a combination sundial and compass. When Ianto pointed the watch north, the sun would cast a shadow and let him know what time it was. And there was no need to wind it or buy more batteries. It was a gift that would hopefully last as long as Ianto lived, and perhaps past that. 

He didn’t linger on the thought. He used to torture himself when he still worked for Torchwood, preparing himself for Ianto’s inevitable, probably early, death. But now that they had nothing but years before them, he no longer wanted to think about Ianto and death together. Yes, it was inevitable that he would die, and Jack would once again be left alone and broken in a world that was no longer perfect in any way without him. But after Ianto had almost died, he didn’t dare think of it. 

He couldn’t afford to waste the second chance he’d been given. 

Anwen finished her bottle, and he put it down and burped her, pacing the hotel room back and forth. The open laptop on the desk, which he’d ignored until now, gave a ding, and he looked at it, interested.

His eyes widened and he all but ran to where Rhys was sleeping. 

“Rhys!” he yelled. 

“Whazzit!” Rhys jerked up, looking around rapidly. He reached for Anwen, eyes wide with alarm. “What’s going on?”

“That signal we were tracing?” The one you said would take until tomorrow? Well, it’s done,” said Jack frantically. “It’s coming from the spa we left Gwen and Ianto at.”

Rhys sat up immediately. “Shite!” 

* * *

Both Bronwyn and the other woman were still passed out, but as much as they tried, neither Ianto nor Gwen could get out of the cuffs nor open the door. So they sat on the ground, rummaging through Bronwyn’s pockets for a key. They’d just found one when Jack and Rhys ran into the room they were kept in. 

“Took you long enough,” joked Gwen. “Now, here’s the key, get us out of the handcuffs.”

Jack ran to uncuff them. 

“There’s some kind of plastic transmitter in the building,” Jack said hurriedly. “We need to find and-”

“Lucky for you, we’re already played detective. Miss Nestene Consciousness is down there,” said Ianto, rubbing his wrists. The Consciousness made an affirmative gurgle. 

“Great, well, we’ve got anti-plastic,” said Rhys, holding Anwen in his bjorn. “So tip it in and let’s go home.”

“Yup,” said Jack, and extracted a blue liquid from inside his coat. 

“No,” cried Gwen. “You can’t!”

“Gwen, I understand that you want to save everything, but this is a Nestene Consciousness. They’re dangerous,” Jack started to explain, but Ianto cut him off.

“Jack, it doesn’t know what it’s doing; it’s a baby,” he said, his voice insistent. “We’ve got to do something else; we can’t kill it.”

“A baby?” Rhys said, looking down at it. 

“It looks about fully grown. I can’t let it keep growing,” Jack said, but he looked conflicted.

“Jack it must have come through the Rift - those women were just using it. We can’t kill it,” Gwen pleaded. “We’ve got to do something.”

“Well, I suppose I could always call UNIT and see if they’ll shoot it off. They’ve got an in with a fellow Nestene, and I’ve got a favor,” Jack said slowly, his face thoughtful. “It might be possible.”

“And we’ve got to do something about these two,” said Gwen, pointing to the women. She was angry - the Consciousness was just a baby, and these two had been using it for their own personal gain. “We can ask UNIT.”

“It’s times like these that I miss having a base,” said Jack. “We didn’t need anyone but ourselves.”

“It was a rush,” responded Ianto softly. “I - I sometimes-”

“-I miss it,” finished Gwen. All four of them looked at each other silently for a couple minutes. 

“But we can’t do it right now,” said Ianto, looking at Anwen strapped to Rhys. “Not remotely soon.”

“Yeah,” said Gwen. “Not now.”

“But in the future - when Anwen is old enough,” Jack trailed off. “Perhaps we can pick up this conversation then?”

“Bloody Torchwood!” Rhys laughed. “I knew you three couldn’t let it go! You should do it.”

“Really?” asked Gwen, looking at her husband in shock. She’d always thought he was relieved that they were no longer working for Torchwood. 

“Really,” responded Rhys. “When Anwen is older. Her world needs defenders, and I wouldn’t trust anyone but you lot to look after it.”

“Well, then, I’d better put in a call to UNIT to take care of this,” said Jack. He stood up and cuffed the two unconscious women, then pulled out his phone and walked to the side, dialing.

Ianto turned to them. “I’d better get our luggage then,” he said. “I’ll pack up everything, don’t worry.”

“Do you need help?” asked Gwen, and smiled when Ianto shook his head. “Well make sure to _hide_ some things very well.” She winked, and he blushed slightly and nodded, walking off. 

“Don’t forget to pack that last bottle of free wine,” she called after him. “I had to lie to get us that!”

Gwen popped down to coo at her daughter, until she couldn’t wait any longer. She pulled Rhys close and kissed him gently. Rhys’ arms wrapped around her and Anwen, and she laughed, feeling nothing but content. As soon as both Jack and Ianto were out of earshot, she wiggled her eyebrows at her husband. 

“Did he get the ring?” she asked, smirking. 

“He didn’t get a ring; he got this antique sundial compass clock thing instead. As an engagement gift,” responded Rhys, as excited as she was. Gwen laughed. 

“That works, because Ianto got a bracelet as an engagement gift too,” she said. Gwen lifted her daughter out of the bjorn and bounced her slightly. Anwen giggled and a wide smile graced her face as she tugged at Gwen’s hair, and Gwen made a silly face at her.

“Now we just have to wait for them to pop the question,” said Rhys.

“Tenner that Jack does it first.” Gwen winked. Rhys shook his head, grinning. 

“Nah, I always bet on Ianto.” He laughed. “Welsh pride, you see.”

“Well, may the best man win,” said Gwen. 

“Oh, I will,” laughed Rhys. 

* * *

**Bonus:**

“You can keep a secret, right?” 

Anwen, being six and a half months old, could not answer, but Ianto didn’t exactly need one. 

“I’m gonna ask your Uncle Jack to marry me today,” he continued. “With this.” He produced the bracelet from his pocket, glittering in the bright sunlight streaming through the patio doors. The stones matched the colour of the calm sea they looked out onto. Anwen, ever curious, reached out for it and he quickly lifted it out of her reaching height.

Anwen looked like she might cry for a moment, but then amused herself by pulling his free hand towards her mouth and putting it into her mouth. 

“Didn’t your father tell you not put things into your mouth?” he asked her, wiping his hand on her bib, then stroked the top of her head gently. 

She gave him a gummy smile in agreement. 

“I love your Uncle Jack more than anything in the world,” Ianto told her. “Well, I love you a tiny bit more. But don’t tell him that.” 

Anwen burbled in agreement, releasing his hand to reach for his face. He leaned down to blow a raspberry on her cheek, and she giggled, patting at his chin. “Abagabah!” 

“Indeed,” he said solemnly. “So, Anwen Cooper-Williams, how do you feel about being my best man?” 

“Bah!” 

“You’re right,” he said. “You will obviously have to see if your Uncle Jack has a better offer first. Well, if you’re not available, I can always ask your mother. I’m sure she’ll be a very grateful second choice.” 

She trailed off into an incomprehensible stream of babble, until he heard a string of _Mama’s_ , and he blinked in shock. “Oh, oh no. You can’t talk to me first. Gwen will _kill_ me.” 

“Mama!” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“Ma-” 

He put a hand over her mouth. “Save that for her, _please_. I can and will pay you. I’ll be the fun uncle. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” 

“Bribing the baby?” Jack asked, startling Ianto, who hastily shoved the bracelet in his pocket. 

“Shamelessly,” he agreed, leaning up for a kiss, which Jack obliged. “Miss Anwen and I are coming to an agreement.” 

“Of course you are,” Jack agreed, dropping down to his knees to give Anwen a cuddle when she reached for him, giving her an adoring smile, and in that moment, Ianto _knew._

He took a deep breath, and slipped a hand in his pocket. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos/Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/)


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